


Shoes, Silence, and Success

by ChibiPanda



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Language, a dash of stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiPanda/pseuds/ChibiPanda
Summary: "The dark dorm was warm, compared to the crisp chill the Seoul night brought, and slightly stale. Jisung kicked off his shoes unceremoniously, causing a few other pares to topple over and block part of the entrance. Not that Jisung cared, eventually people would wear those shoes again anyway."The shoes, the stress, and Jisung and Chan's friendship. We all know the story -- here is my (very late) version of the events!
Comments: 13
Kudos: 105





	Shoes, Silence, and Success

**Author's Note:**

> I LIVE!!! I'm so sorry it has been so long.. I hope this isn't horrible!!!!!!!

Jisung and Chan had a special relationship. It was dynamic; equals, rivals, mentors, friends, brothers. Complex. The others, as they came in — and out — had all seen it. Some had commented on it. Others simply accepted it for what it was. At first, some were even intimidated by it — how can I compete with _that?_ But eventually, it became normal.

It, at one point, was also noticeably weird for Jisung — once he took a step back to really look at it. That happened pretty early on in the grand scheme of things. He’d started writing with Chan already, Changbin had joined, some of the others had entered their sphere of existence, though in a more fluid way.

Jisung had yet to truly acknowledge his personal problems with anxiety and by extension anger and jealousy. Nor had he figured out a way to verbalize those feelings to anyone. The sudden spike of irrational fear, the jump in heart rate, even the uncontrollable shaking that occasionally occurred as a result had still been hidden with relative ease.

_“I’m just cold, Hyung,”_

_“I’m excited is all,”_

_“No, I’m not jumpy!”_

It took its toll on Jisung, of course. Especially, if it was Chan who’d asked. Though the younger boy really didn’t have an answer for it.

Things were always stressful for trainees, more so when you had formed close bonds and knew full well there was a good chance those people would leave you or debut without you. And the more people who managed to get into Jisung’s bubble — Chan, then Changbin, Jeongin, Felix, even Woojin with his air of superiority (not that he ever did or said anything, he just felt superior) had eventually broken through — the more discomfort he felt thinking about their eventual separation. 

It didn’t help that last week his vocal teacher had decided they were going to go busking, nor did it help that they were to be alone when doing it, nor did it help that Jisung was slated to perform at five Saturday afternoon in the busiest section of Hongdae.

Jisung had been on edge since the event was announced and the stress was only growing. He’d casually played it off to Chan and Changbin, claiming excitement; whether they bought it or not Jisung didn’t care.

He’d been practicing late and hard trying to ease that nervous terror. It worked, but only for a few hours. Normally wearing off sometime in the middle of the night eating away at his sleep.

Jisung had returned from one of those exhausted attempts to ease that tight feeling to the dorm he currently shared with Chan and some new trainee called Xian — nice guy, Jisung loved how vibrant he was, but he was rarely home. 

The dark dorm was warm, compared to the crisp chill the Seoul night brought, and slightly stale. Jisung kicked off his shoes unceremoniously, causing a few other pares to topple over and block part of the entrance. Not that Jisung cared, eventually people would wear those shoes again anyway.

Even in the darkened room, he could make out the outline of the old cushion they used as a couch. The thing was lumpy and mostly flat, but big enough to hold two or maybe three guys with room to spare; four if they really tried — and they had.

Jisung sunk in between the two largest lumps, his butt a few centimeters above the floor, and flipped on the small tv. The tv had been a gift from Chan’s family early on in his trainee days, now the thing was outdated but it still worked well enough. Changbin had since given them a newer one, though they’d yet to set it up.

Jisung scrolled through channels, paying little attention to what was actually on. Instead, he was trying to think up lyrics for a new song he wanted to show the guys when they next met; the day after his busking, Chan’s orders. He stopped on some nature channel and pulled out his cellphone and tucked his legs into the front of his stretched sweatshirt.

He’d been typing for some time when the door opened again. Jisung didn’t look up, though he did give an acknowledgment, something between ‘hi’ and ‘how was your day’ though neither greeting came out clearly in the jumble.

There was a low irritated hiss accompanied by a sarcastic, “great,” and finished with the soft sound of a bag swinging against the wall. 

Jisung knew it was Chan. Had known it was Chan before the door even opened, “that bad, huh?”

“Yeah. Damn shit storm - would you please pick up your _fucking_ shoes! I’m not your damned parent!”

The tone Chan used was one Jisung had never heard before. It was low and livid; filled with either rage or hatred — Jisung wasn’t sure he wanted to know which. He froze awkwardly at the demand, feeling uncertainty and nerves festering deep within.

Jisung’s silence, though short was enough for Chan, “Get your shit together!” He quickly stomped off after that, leaving the younger frozen still. 

Shivering despite the warmth, shaking really, Jisung eventually moved from his spot to the pile of shoes. He straightened them as the shower turned on in the small bathroom behind him. And before the water stopped flowing, Jisung had quietly and quickly found his place in bed with eyes forced shut. Exhaustion pulling him into oblivion even with his body still rattling uncontrollably.

Chan’s anger had subsided moments after the shower started, but the apology and explanation he’d intended to give Jisung would have to wait. Though Chan did whisper apologies as he made sure Jisung wasn’t going to fall off the mattress later in the night — a thing the younger boy did with some regularity — and ran a hand through Jisung’s soft yet undamaged hair.

~*~*~*~

Jisung strategically managed to sneak out before Chan woke up — if you call leaving the dorm by eleven strategic — being careful to avoid the now orderly shoes on his way out the door. 

Somewhere inside Jisung was aware that Chan’s anger wasn’t truly directed towards him, he was also aware that avoiding the situation, avoiding the conflict, was both childish and stupid. If he valued Chan’s friendship — and he fucking did — then he needed to address the issue head-on.

Except Chan wasn’t out-of-line. Not really. Jisung knew he needed to grow up. Yes, he was sixteen but he wasn’t a child.

Thinking about everything only made Jisung feel uneasy and a little bit ill. By the time he made it to the JYP building, he was pretty sure he needed to throw up.

He didn’t.

Mostly because the first thing Jisung did upon entering the building was run into Felix. Literally. 

For someone as outgoing as Felix, he was also remarkably shy — at least that was Jisung’s perception. They’d been close friends for almost a month now, acquaintances for about eight days prior. 

“I saw you coming and ran down,” Felix’s Korean was improving greatly each and every day, but to the passerby, the sentence might not have made much sense.

“How’d you see me coming? There aren’t any rooms on this side of the building,” 

“I’m magic!” Felix paused a beat before adding in English, “How would I say I had all the security cameras tapped and was watching?”

Jisung cackled his way to the nearby elevator, only answering the question once inside. Felix did this pretty often, and Jisung couldn’t always answer. His own English was far from perfect, but the two always tried.

“Not that I don’t love you Sung, but where’s Chris — or Chan… or Hyung, whatever? You guys always come in together.”

That sour feeling Jisung had almost forgotten about boiled back to the surface. Chan’s previous anger flashed somewhere in front of Jisung’s eyes making him uncomfortable, “oh...uh he was sleeping. Didn’t wanna bother him. Ya know?”

The skepticism on Felix’s face was short-lived as the elevator opened to allow more people inside.

Being pressed back against the wall did nothing to ease Jisung’s queasiness nor did the newcomers, whom he recognized, vibrant discussion on the upcoming busking. Jisung polity pushed passed them on the next floor and clamored out into the hallway.

“Wait! Ji,” Felix forced his way out after Jisung. “This isn’t our floor...Is it?”

Felix always managed to lighten Jisung’s mood slightly even without trying, “no ‘Lix, it’s not. But I figured we could take the stairs the rest of the way up?”

“That nervous, huh?” even without being fluent, Felix understood things far too well — read the situation, read people, far too well. Once language stopped being a barrier, Jisung knew there’d be no way to hide anything from him.

“Maybe,” Jisung partially admitted, dragging Felix into the nearby stairwell and pulling him up the next flight, “or maybe I wanted to get our legs working for the future fans!”

Felix snickered and the two ran the next four flights. Nearly colliding with a handful of younger trainees and — embarrassingly — Jaebum.

By the time the two reached the correct floor, they were breathing heavily.

“Why’d we do that?!” Felix gasped in English.

“Butt. Legs. Good.” Jisung panted out in return, which sent them into a fit of breathless giggles. It felt good to be breathless, to move, it seemed to dilute that acidic rot which so frequently took hold of Jisung’s core, “strive for perfection ‘Lixie my friend.”

“Neither of you are going to get near perfect, you’re too dumb,” the insult was coated with amused affection, easily goading the two into an explosive array of snappy and witty comebacks. Though nearly indiscernible, they still brought a bright smile to Changbin’s face, “Ah yes, chaotic insanity at noon. My favorite lunch.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Jisung playfully rolled his eyes and slung an arm around Felix’s shoulders, pulling the Aussie closer, “we don’t need your love Hyung!”

“Lie,” Changbin took a large swig of his energy drink and swatted at Jisung, who ducked easily, “Without my love you all’d be lost.”

“We have Chris,” Felix interjected, “hyung,” he remembered to add a couple of beats later.

At the mention of Chan’s name, Jisung felt his previous anxiety spike again. He’d already ruined that friendship...maybe he shouldn’t push Changbin too much.

“Speaking of that musical genus insomniac, where is that boy?”

Jisung allowed Felix to do all the talking, slow though it was, trying to fix his own internal struggle instead.

Avoiding Chan was something doable, Jisung knew it would be challenging – they lived together after all – but he could stay out late tonight and tomorrow was the busking…

“So the sleep loving Sung managed to get up before the sleep avoiding Chan-hyung. I’m impressed,”

Jisung made the appropriate response and the three continued down the hall.

~*~*~*~

But the time the busking rolled around Jisung was a complete wreck. Not talking to Chan for basically three whole days was absolutely horrible. It made him feel like a complete failure. And then there was the busking event itself.

Jisung was slated to go last – _the best for last Jisung-ah. That’s how these things work. People only clearly remember the first person and the last person at things like these._ – and there were a lot of people. A lot. They were all too close. Too loud. Too close.

Jisung felt ill. Not just in a nervous way either, it was worse than that. Whatever was wrong, it was all-encompassing. He couldn’t fully catch his breath. He couldn’t calm his heart. Hell, he couldn’t even stop shaking.

“And everyone is going to watch and then talk and then,” he found himself muttering under his breath breathlessly. There were only four songs before his. At this rate, he was going to pass out before he even got to be in the spotlight.

“Sung?”

There he was, Chan, Jisung’s source of strength and calm. The source that Jisung himself had single-handedly destroyed.

“Hey. You’re going to do great Sungie…You don’t need to be this worried,” Chan ducked under the loose handing cloth that was being used to separate the stage and the performers as they waited, “Do you need something? Water, maybe. You’re kinda worrying me here Sungie. I thought you were just super busy preparing for this, but this – I’m sorry I didn’t try and reach out sooner, but I didn’t want to add any more stress. I should have, I guess…listen…”

Chan’s rambles were only partially making it through Jisung’s rushing ears, but the simple fact the older was even there broke something. “I’m sorry about the shoes…” he rushed out. Each word accompanied with a dozen tears and a breathless gasp. The look of utter alarm that sprang onto Chan’s face managed to reconstruct Jisung’s mental state some.

“I know that Sung. I wanted to apologize that night. I shouldn’t of – okay. You need to take a deep breath. Do you want me to talk to your teacher and have someone else –”

“NO!” the shout came out more like a harsh gasp, “no, I can do this. I can do this.”

“Okay,” Chan looked skeptical and appalled, “I know you can.” He hesitated for a few seconds, oscillating between reaching out and staying still – in the end Chan grabbed Jisung a bit harshly and pulled him into a quick hug, essentially forcing the younger to dry his eyes on Chan’s sweatshirt, “Once you get through this we’ll talk okay? But I’m not mad and I’ve missed your face,”

The joke did the trick, pulled Jisung back into the present enough for him to regain some control, “Good,”

“Good?!” Chan pulled away, “all you can say is ‘good?’

“Well, if you didn’t,” the waver was getting less noticeable, though Jisung could still feel himself trembling, “I’d be concerned something was wrong with you. Who wouldn’t miss my face after all?”

“Well –”

“Jisung-ah? You ready,”

Jisung blinked twice wide-eyed at Chan before turning and nodding determinedly, “Always!”

*~*~*~*

The busking went great. Once Jisung was on stage and performing, the crowd disappeared from his head. And when the song ended and the crowd came back Chan was there to keep him grounded.

“You know,” Chan shoved a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth before continuing, “I bet it’s social anxiety Sung,” The two had ditched the scheduled gathering and instead grabbed coffee and ice cream before heading back to the studio, “Like everything you described, was pretty much exactly what my psychologist described when she explained my depression. I can’t diagnose you Ji, but it might make sense to talk to someone.” He took another bite of ice cream, waving his spoon at Jisung this time, “And you better tell me next time too. I don’t care if we are ‘fighting,’ we gotta share those things, man. Otherwise, they become unbearable. You hear me?”

As he listened Jisung carefully sipped his Americano. What Chan said made sense, too much sense perhaps – an almost uncomfortable amount of sense, “The company won’t like it…” his admission was quiet, “like, an idol with devastating anxiety? They’ll probably kick me out…”

“No. They won’t,” Chan took yet another bite, larger than the last, cringing as the ice cream scrapped against his teeth, “they can’t.”

It was hard to doubt Chan’s conviction, “Okay… You know, not talking to you was shit.”

This caused Chan to snort and a bit of melted ice cream dribble from his lips down his chin, resulting in Jisung’s endless giggles.

“Laugh now ya squirrel,” using his sleeve to wipe the sugary drool, “Just you wait, I’ll start putting your smelly shoes around your bed next time. You’ll _wish_ we weren’t talking instead.”

“You, sir, play dirty.”

“Shut up and eat before I eat it all. I don’t want to be the only one to get punished tomorrow,”

“Then hand over the spoon you hog,”

**Author's Note:**

> It has been far too long. My intention was to continue as normal after I started my new job, but man... I clearly struggled with that. Between adapting to my new job, and then the obvious all-encompassing current health situation... ANYWAY, I am going to do everything in my power to publish AT LEAST once a month going forward. Hopefully, once I get my rhythm back it will be twice or three times. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading. I'm so sorry it has been forever. Stay healthy - stay safe <3


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